


Playlist of the dead

by Puglebug



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Squip, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, His dad is trying, I'll tag as I go, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jeremy's grieving, Multi, Not Much Shipping, Self Harm, So so much angst, Some massive trigger warnings bros, Suicidal Thoughts, help them, sad stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puglebug/pseuds/Puglebug
Summary: Michael Mell. A teen suicide statistic. Missed by many. Forgotten by no one.Jeremy can't seem to move on after the death of his best friend. He only left one thing behind. It's been a year since his death and Jeremy is finally ready to find a reason why.





	Playlist of the dead

**Author's Note:**

> I spent two years on this garbage, Please enjoy

Flashing lights, a white blanket and tears. That’s all Jeremy remembers from the night. Of a course all he lets himself remember. When he has nightmares he remembers how pale Michael looked. The screaming. The chest compressions. The Begging for it to all be a dream. He always broke down crying when he had to explain. Especially here. In this office with its walls that grey color Michael always hated.

“And how does that make you feel?” The woman asked. Tapping her pen against her brown square clipboard. Jeremy noticed the type of pen she was using. Gel, Michael always preferred gel pens. He didn’t dare say a word.

“Is this a recurring nightmare or do they differ?” She stared into the pale boy’s cold blue eyes, his lips still refusing to move. The woman sighed.

“Jeremy I feel that in order to get over this grief you are feeling we have to give you some kind of closure from Michael’s death. You mentioned a playlist?” The woman cocked an eyebrow and Jeremy winced.

‘He isn’t dead!’ His mind screamed correct her but he kept his mouth shut it a tight line and nodded.

“Maybe you should find it. Listen to it.”

The woman smiled. It was the kind of sweet smile Michael never would have trusted. Jeremy twiddled his thumbs and mumbled out an inaudible response. The woman silently shook her head and stood as she heard the beeping of her timer go off, opening the door for Jeremy.

“Just think about it.” She said gently. Jeremy walked out of the office and into the hallway to wait for his father. He checked his phone, It was 3:56. In four minutes it would be Michael’s favorite hour. He shifted his weight from foot to foot humming a soft tune, Three little birds, By Bob Marley. Michael’s favorite artist. Michael always used to make them listen to his music on the way to school.< p/> Jeremy’s father rushed in. He quickly went up to Jeremy with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry I’m late jer! I got stuck at the office!” Jeremy simply gave a nod of understanding in response. Mr. Heere sighed but kept his smile.

“Come on kiddo! Let’s go home!” He waved for his son to follow as they exited the building. Once outside Jeremy strapped himself into his father’s beige car slowly. Michael always thought beige cars were for boring people. Jeremy didn’t like being boring. He sat there twiddling his thumbs, staring absently out the window.

“So Jer! How was the new therapist?” His dad asked hopefully. Jeremy didn’t respond and continued to stare out the window with a blank expression. Mr. Heere attempted to put a hand on his son’s shoulder but was shrugged off. His smile faded and his put his full attention back on the road.

Jeremy’s eyes briefly sparked as they passed a 7/11. Michael’s favorite place. His excitement quickly vanished as the convenience store blurred with the rest of the fleeting scenery. The drive home from there was silent and uncomfortable on both ends. When the vehicle finally came to a stop, Jeremy scrambled to get out of the car, unbuckling himself as fast as his body would allow. Mr. Heere chuckled softly at his son’s urgency.

Jeremy however didn’t match his sentiment and walked up to the door, waiting for his father to unlock the door. As he didn’t want to touch the spare key Michael had always used and he didn’t have a key of his own. Mr. Heere quickly opened the door and smiled sadly. Jeremy again rushed inside not even bothering to remove his shoes as he jogged up the stairs and into his room. Once inside his room he sighed with relief. Here, he could be alone.

Jeremy walked over to and sank into his bean bag, breathing out shakily as he searched around the room for his Wii controller. He was gonna play this shitty day away. He stood up and picked up the controller before going to his mix-matched stack of vintage video games. He searched through the games with his free hand, he had completed almost every game accept…. Apocalypse of the damned. Two players. Still stuck on level nine. He pondered playing the game again but quickly shook the thought away. Michael hated when he finished games without him.

He decided instead to pick up and play super smash bros for the millionth time. Michael and him had first completed together so he wouldn’t have any problem with Jeremy playing it again. He began the game and played out each sequence with ease, having long since memorized each computer generated punch the game could throw at him.

“Jeremy, dinner!” His father called with a strained voice. Jeremy suddenly became aware of his surroundings. He focused in on the old cable box on top of his T.V with confusion. Was it really 7:30? It had been only 4:00 pm what felt like minutes ago. He shrugged it off and walked downstairs at his father’s command. His posture was meek and tight. His father sat at the table and smiled sadly as Jeremy took a seat. 

“So…. You excited for the first day of school tomorrow?” Mr. Heere took a bite of his Spaghetti. Michael always loved spaghetti. Jeremy said nothing, lazily poking at the food on his plate. He never ate much anymore. His blue cardigan accentuated his skeleton like frame.

“I was thinking of inviting Reyna over tomorrow. For dinner. She might need some support…. you know…” He paused cautiously. “Cause of the anniversary.” Mr. Heere coughed awkwardly as Jeremy noticeably stiffened.

“How does that sound?” Mr. Heere asked, a desperate tinge to his words. He needed a sign that his son was still… his son. Jeremy however made no indication of acknowledgment. His face keeping its almost now permanent blank, pained expression. Mr. Heere sighed and picked up his plate, shambling off to the kitchen.

“Don’t forget to take your meds before bed kiddo.” He said softly. Jeremy nodded even though his father couldn’t see. Leaving his untouched plate on the table as he stood. He knew Michael wouldn’t approve of his eating habits but…He swiftly marched up the stairs and into his room when he caught a glimpse of his desk. The drawer of which held…. the playlist. Part of him wished to heed the advice of his Dr. Lauren. But his mind ached at the thought. Not tonight. He shook his head and searched for the small cardboard box under his bed.

He sat on his bed, holding the box in his hands. He swallowed thickly before opening it. His hands shaking wildly. He looked at the pill bottles it contained. He didn’t want to take any of them. He deserved this feeling. This feeling of total panic. He deserved the pain. The pain Michael likely felt.

Jeremy quickly shut the box and threw it under his bed. Ghost like tears began to fall down his cheeks as he looked at the clock. 8:17. In three hours and fifty minutes it will have been the hour he got the call. The call that changed everything.

One hour passed and Jeremy still sat on his bed. His chest heaving with sobs as he waited for it. Waited for the call from Reyna explaining that Michael had…. Explaining that they needed to go to the hospital.

Two hours passed. Jeremy was pacing rapidly around his room. He had no tears left to cry and his hands shook. Part of him wished he was dead then he could be with Michael and not here wishing he could be.

Three hours passed. Jeremy sat on his floor. His breathing ragged and uneven. His mind shaken with insomnia. In ten minutes he would be getting the call.

Ten minutes passed. 2:07 am. The room was uneasily silent. The call didn’t come. Jeremy still waited in the darkness of his room. The silence seemed more deafening than anything his paranoia filled head could make up. He needed something to fill the static in his brain. He needed music.

His eyes, which had long since adjusted to the dark, darted over to his desk. Maybe this could tell him why. Maybe he’s finally have an answer. A purpose. Jeremy soon found himself standing in front of the desk, his entire form shaking as he reached into his small drawer.

He pulled out only two things. An old iPod and a white pair of headphones. The ones Michael used to wear. He shed a few tears as he slipped the headphones over his ears, all the memories rushing towards him without warning. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he opened the iPod and clicked on the only thing that appeared to be on it. iTunes. Only a single playlist was listed on the app. Jeremy wiped his tears as he clicked shuffle, and let the words of scientist by coldplay fill his ears.


End file.
